


i'm headed straight for the castle; they're gonna make me the queen

by honeysparks



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Making Out, Minor Laura Hollis/Danny Lawrence, War, i don't know how to tag this without spoiling things that happen in the story, someone save me pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysparks/pseuds/honeysparks
Summary: Two princesses, one of gold and one of ice, engaged in a forbidden tryst that promises nothing but love lost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for this work in the notes at the end, fair warning! this was incredibly fun to write and i hope you enjoy reading it :-)
> 
> title from 'castle' by halsey

The evening had started as every ball did. The announcements of respected guests, the presentations of the reigning hosts and the visiting royals, and finally, the dances and gossips and occasional quarrels. That night was peaceful, the guests of the party being the visiting Queen and Princess of the Northern Kingdom from where the tales of ice and sorcery came. And true to the exquisite stories, both the queen and her daughter held a beauty that seemed almost ethereal in kind, with dark flowing hair and piercing, almost mocking stares.

Laura, the hosting princess and daughter of the Southern King, was very much enthralled. Being born and raised in the warm, southern lands where fruits grew in abundance and the sun never slept, she had swallowed the tales and rumours of the mysterious north, and was now curious as ever to see the visiting royals herself.

Throughout the evening, she couldn't help herself from drifting off in every boring interaction she found herself trapped in, her eyes flickering around the bright, magnificently lit room for a glimpse of the foreign princess who seemed to have vanished among the crowd of glittering jewels and gowns. The Northern Queen had resigned to the throne alongside Laura's father, and they both seemed engaged in deep conversation, perhaps about a serious matter or two.

"Are you alright?"

A voice she'd never heard before snapped Laura out of her thoughts. It was crystalline clear, like ice that she'd never seen, and delicious, like a dessert she'd never tasted. She turned around quickly, surprised yet not shocked to see the pale beauty in front of her. Up close, she was even more gorgeous, like a porcelain doll, decorated in all her splendour. Her face seemed to be drained of colour, but her lips were a bright, startling red.

"Yes," Laura's voice sounded meek, a reflection of how she felt. "I-I'm perfectly fine. Is the ball anything like what you are accustomed to?"

The foreign princess shrugged, an unimpressed expression on her face as she very obviously looked Laura up and down, her dark, beady eyes trailing down her dress as if she were memorising each detail. Laura cleared her throat, her face flushing pink as she pretended that she hadn't been doing the same just a minute ago.

"Is Laura a common name here, in the south?" The dark-haired monarch asked finally, breaking the tension that seemed to be thickening by the second. "Did your parents ever tell you the reason for your naming?"

Laura raised an eyebrow, stifling a snort, "Charming, you are, with your inquisitive and not at all prying questions." She began walking away from the middle of the room and towards the open corridors beside the ballroom, thinking that if they were to converse, it should be done with some privacy.

"I do think so myself," the laugh that resonated from the other princess' throat told Laura that she wasn't making a fool of herself, not yet. "I was named Mircalla, after my great-grandmother. But the name didn't stick." She made a sour face, "Carmilla sounded better, especially for one as young as myself."

For the first time in many conversations held in the very same corridor at many different balls, Laura found herself surprised at the story being told.

"How old are you, Carmilla?" Laura asked, testing the new name on her tongue.

"Twenty. And yourself?"

Laura blushed. She had hoped to be the same amount of years. "Eighteen." Before the smirking older girl could reply, Laura changed the subject. "Your name- it's made from the same letters as Mircalla, isn't it? An anagram. Clever," she praised quietly.

Beside her, the raven-haired girl smiled in approval. A cat's smile, Laura thought. All flashy teeth and no truth of the thought that caused the grin.

"You still haven't told me the story of your name, you know," Carmilla seemed amused at Laura's unsuccessful dodging of the question.

The honey-eyed girl stiffened visibly, obviously uncomfortable, and Carmilla ate it up.

"Before my mother died, one of her last wishes was that I be named Laura, after... After a girl in a book she once read, and a song she held dear to her." Laura couldn't help but stutter as she struggled to keep her voice from faltering.

Carmilla laid a hand on her arm, and Laura froze at the comforting iciness of her touch. Looking up slowly, Laura found herself slowly tangling herself in the embrace of the taller, older princess. It felt like an eternity as Carmilla brushed a loose strand of hair back behind Laura's ear and cupped her face, all the while leaning closer and closer.

The kiss was short, but fused with more raw passion than Laura could've ever imagined in her wildest dreams, even more so with a girl. Not just a girl, she reminded herself, the Princess of the widely discussed Northern Kingdom.

When, at long last, they pulled away from one another, Laura's face was flushed bright red, and Carmilla's appeared to be tinged a slight pink.

"Do you... Is there an empty room around here?" Carmilla asked, her voice so soft and husky and breathy that all Laura could do was lean further into her touch before leading her through the dimly-lit hallway with shaky footsteps.

That night, in the dark lit by just candlelight, Carmilla showed Laura things she hadn't ever heard of, not even in the wildest stories told of the North. Carmilla made her feel things she had never felt before; she made her fingers grip the edges of her silk sheets, and her toes curl and her thíghs shake. While the royal musicians played folk songs and waltzes out in the ballroom, the only music the two princesses heard were their own whimpers and urgent mōans of pleasure.

-

Before Carmilla, Laura had never thought about the stars as more than just rocks burning up in endless space. But with Carmilla, they were stories. Legends.

"That one there, near that cluster I just told you about? That's Cassiopeia," the raven-haired princess hummed in a sugary voice, her hand clasped firmly in Laura's as they sat on the garden wall, no ceiling above them but that of the open heavens. "She was a pretty but vain queen. So vain, in fact, that she was cursed and bound to the sky by the gods, forever doomed to see the most beautiful of women on earth, and not her own face."

"Can't she just look at the reflective oceans?" Laura chuckled, leaning her head into the crook of Carmilla's neck slowly. "Surely she was not as stupid as she was beautiful." 

"Ah, but she was in love with herself. People are only stupid when they're in love, Laura."

Laura's breath hitched at what Carmilla was suggesting. Or maybe she was just overthinking. But the casual use of the word love... Perhaps it wasn't as casual as it was meant to seem.

"I disagree," her voice was raspy when she spoke, but she did nothing to change it, "People are at their best when they're in love."

Carmilla was quiet. And then, "Have I told you of Orion and the Scorpion?"

-

"We shouldn't be doing this."

Laura's words were rushed in the heated mess of satin skirts and corsets coming undone. Both princesses seemed oblivious to the ongoing ball outside the room they were in, as if they had locked themselves in their own little world.

To some extent, they had.

The taller, slimmer of the two growled somewhat impatiently, her tousled brown hair falling in curled locks across her bare shoulders. "And, the several times that we have before this, we should have?" She quipped, her words melting into a sigh as lips pressed chaste kisses down her neck and collarbones.

"Would it pain you _that much_ , Carmilla, to just be quiet for once?" Laura, retorted in a furious murmur, pushing the dark waves of her lover's hair aside. Though it was nothing new, Laura still felt bare and vulnerable, in the dark room, pressed against the wall as Carmilla touched her in places and ways that made her breath catch in her throat.

Her fingers running down Laura's sides in a way that made her squirm, Carmilla only smiled dangerously, licking a thin stripe over the bite marks she'd left over her golden tanned skin. She didn't say a word -she didn't have to- as she pulled down the remaining fabric covering her own much paler chest.

Laura mōaned softly at the pure sight, wasting no time in showing the dark-haired beauty what she thought. Carmilla wrapped her arms around the smaller, younger princess as she pressed their mouths together to silence whatever sounds might give them away. Their bodies writhed and curled against each other, making as little noise as possible with nothing but the pale moonlight and breeze as a witness.

-

The King had sent for her.

Of course, it was no abnormality, as she was his daughter, the crown Princess, but Laura was still terribly anxious, her hands quivering as she walked briskly through the hallways after the servant that was sent to summon her. Had someone sent word of her and the visiting princess? Had someone caught them together, caught a foreignly pale hand on the small of her back, a place too intimate for anyone less than one she was courting?

"Laura, darling, you look pale."

Her father's voice broke her out of her thoughts, where the word pale ricocheted around her brain furiously, as if to remind her of dark chocolate eyes and a touch that burned into her skin.

"I'm well, father, just dizzy from the walk." She lied between her teeth with a well-placed smile that she hoped would be assuring enough. It seemed to suffice, as the King nodded and flicked his wrist, signalling a servant to bring forth a chair for his daughter.

It was only after Laura's legs had given way and she had sunk down onto the chair that she noticed the setup of the place she had been called to. A long table sat in the middle of the plainly-decorated room, covered with an elaborate map of forestry and forts. It was a war room.

"It has come to my attention- to the kingdom's attention, that the North is more of a threat than we assumed," the King began, clearing his throat and pausing for Laura to grip the situation.

"T-The North? Weren't they... Did we not host a ball with Her Majesty Queen Lilita not more than a moon ago?" Laura thought the room was spinning, but that could've just been her head. Carmilla was Queen Lilita's daughter, Princess of the North, and she had certainly visited many times in the past fortnight. Laura wondered what could have gone wrong in such a short time. In fact, Carmilla was on one of those visits now, staying with a trusted innkeeper not too far from the palace. She visited Laura in secret nearly every day. 

"I assumed that they would be fair in the distribution of the conquered lands in the east, but the Queen seems to have an agenda of her own. I sent her messengers with a peace treaty and a fair negotiation, and she sent me back their heads."

"What do we do from here on, then? March straight into the battlefield and make a grand tournament of the slaughtering as many innocents as possible?" Laura asked sharply, gazing into nothing into particular, at the floor, the wall, the empty space in front of her.

The King sighed, looking at his daughter with weary eyes. "You're so much like your mother. She never liked sending the kingdom into war, either."

Laura forced her expression to remain solemn. "Like it? I despise it."

More specifically, she thought to herself, her hands twisting into the folds of her dress, I despise that you're forcing me to make an enemy of my lover.

A sudden thought made Laura sit up straighter. "Father," she began carefully, although she knew her next question would be nothing short of a direct accusation, "What was the negotiation you sent forth to Her Majesty?"

The King, however, didn't seem to mind as he chuckled and placed a calm hand on her back. "Terms of a marriage between our kingdom and hers. You know that's always how it has been done. That's how your mother and I were married."

Flinching, Laura realised that a royal marriage between the kingdoms would involve her, as she was the only one left in the Hollis bloodline. In the Karnstein kingdom, Carmilla had talked of countless cousins and step-siblings.

"A marriage, father? Between who?" Laura tried to remain calm, but her heart was beating too fast for her to think straight. Blood was rushing through her brain and her vision was starting to blur.

"A cousin of the princess Karnstein," the King mused just as joyfully, "And my dearest, darling daughter." He stopped to run his fingers over Laura's smooth, silky hair. "Oh, it would have pleased me so."

"And me?" Laura stood up abruptly, unable to contain her anger any longer, "What of my wishes, father? What of my feelings towards a marriage between my heart and one I have never met?"

The King tutted, shaking his head as if he were explaining something to a mere child. "Laura, darling, as a princess you must be sure of your duty-"

Laura was quick to interrupt him, "My duty is in court, which I have attended since the age of sixteen, and will continue to attend until the day I choose my groom!" She ended by turning on her heel and leaving the room, rushing down to the stables without even thinking to change her gown. Oh well, she thought, at least it's an airy day-dress.

She saddled her horse in no time, already knowing where she was headed. She flicked the reins, suddenly thankful for the forced riding lessons she had despised greatly as a young princess obsessed with fairytales and all too girlish matters. Her dress caught in the stirrups again and again, which made her swear in frustration until eventually she was riding one-handedly, the other clutching her cheek and wiping angry tears away.

By the time Laura reached the inn, the sun was beginning to set, the last of its golden rays shining upon the old stone buildings and pathways. She knocked frantically on the door, wasting no time in barging in past the old innkeeper and running up the stairs to the room Carmilla had mentioned once or twice when they lay in Laura's wing of the palace.

-

_"You cannot imagine the state of the place I am staying at, Laura," the visiting royal sighed, her fingers twirling themselves around golden-brown strands of hair as they lay on the southern princess' bed, bodies entwined._

_"I'm terribly sorry, you must know that," Laura only sighed and giggled in response, shifting so she was laying on top of the dark-haired beauty."How long until you've to go back?"_

_Carmilla paused, the only expression on her face being the slight twitch of her lips. Laura had become used to her morose expressions by then, and the cryptic, gothic way of her speech._

_"Day after the morrow."_

_Laura raised her eyebrows in surprise. "S-So soon?"_

_"Mother has plans that she wants me home for." Carmilla's reply was short, but not curt. That was another thing that Laura had become accustomed to. "I'll be back soon, love. And you know where to find me; you know the wretched place."_

_And then Laura was kissing her, and her lips were warm and her hands were just where they should be, and everything was warm, and everything was warm._

_-_

"Carm? Carm, i-it's me, Laura, are you here?" Laura shifted uncomfortably in front of the heavy wooden door. Suddenly her frantic escapade to the only person she wanted to see felt more than just a little foolish.

Her feelings of doubt, however, melted away the moment the door opened and Carmilla, leaning against the doorpost with a glittering smile and dressed in a mere robe, pulled Laura into the room, her arms immediately locking around the smaller girl's waist.

"I've missed you so," the black-haired princess whispered, pressing chaste kisses to Laura's neck, over her throat and the top of her collarbones before she seemed to recognise that something wasn't right. "What's wrong, darling?"

Laura was breathless in her arms, her cheeks flushed as she caught her breath, bringing Carmilla over to the bed where she sat in a huff, being careful to not dirty the white linen sheets with the soiled ends of her gown.

"Father plans to marry me off to one of your countless cousins," she explained in an angry huff, earning a simple eyebrow raise and shrug from Carmilla, which was far from the reaction Laura had expected. In her mind, it had been more of a dramatic 'Oh no! Why would he do that?'

Carmilla was tracing her fingers along the folds of Laura's skirt, looking both focused and completely spaced out at the same time. Laura took it as a cue to keep talking until she mentioned something interesting enough to merit a reaction.

"Father also mentioned something about your mother -the Queen- being relatively, err, hostile?" Laura chuckled nervously, moving away from Carmilla just a little so she could look at her properly. "Something about sending back heads rather than a peace treaty?"

Carmilla laughed, a bubbling, malicious sound. "Well, no doubt of where my sense of humour is from, then, hm?"Her expression sobered when Laura backed away even more. "Laura- Darling, I'm just having a laugh."

"There's nothing funny about bloodshed, Carm."

"There is when it's in the face of a surrender, Laura."

 _Surrender?_ Laura was indignant. "Neither I nor the King mentioned anything about a surrender. What are you on about?"

Carmilla leaned back with her feet dangling off the bed, her bare legs moving languidly along the sheets. She looked blank; bored, almost. "Listen to yourself. Listen to _me._ What did you think the grand welcoming ball was for? Actual welcoming?" She paused to laugh incredulously, "Laura, darling, that ball was the dying hope of a nation requesting a ceasefire."

It felt like needles pricking at Laura's skin, raising goosebumps and making her shiver.

But Carmilla wasn't done. "And face it, your southern nation may be beautiful compared to our frozen wastelands, but in terms of warfare? The North has never been conquered, and has never failed to conquer. Darling," she purred, and Laura felt like she was a metal in the face of the sun. "Darling," Carmilla repeated, "You don't stand a chance."

Feeling something oddly close to a rage she didn't think she had ever felt, Laura growled and stood from the bed, her hands placed on her waist. "You've barely been here for a fortnight, and you- you think you know this place like the back of your hand. Well, you're wrong. You don't know the South, you don't know my father, and you certainly don't know as much about me as you obviously think you do. As vast and- and fearsome as the Northern Kingdom is, you're not taking the South. Not while my father is King, and not while I'm his daughter."

Her words were a flurried rush, and by the time she was done, her face was more red than she would have liked it to be. All the while, Carmilla had crawled across the bed until she was sat on her heels.

The black-haired beauty rose slowly. Even on her knees, she was almost the same height as Laura. "As delightful as it is to see you all flushed and passionate about something," she smirked coyly, "I prefer that pretty little mouth of yours much better when it's on me."

The sound that Laura made was halfway between an anguished cry and a frustrated groan, but either way, when Carmilla took her face in her hands and kissed her deeply, she didn't resist, and she certainly didn't pull away. However, she didn't kiss back either, which prompted a pout from Carmilla and a brushing of her thumb across Laura's chapped lips.

"Come on, sweetheart. What is there to lose?"

Laura hesitated. "Everything," she whispered back, and then her hands were on Carmilla's waist and Carmilla's hands were in her hair and cupping her cheek and Carmilla was everywhere.

The stumble to the bed was messy, involving many open-mouthed kisses and rips in the stitches at the back of Laura's dress.

"This doesn't change a thing," Laura gasped between every kiss, her hands easily undoing the satin ties of Carmilla's robe.

Carmilla only smiled that lazy smile, her lips already trailing kisses down Laura's collarbones and chest. "God, you are gorgeous." Once the pesky task of undressing the honey-haired princess was done, Carmilla laid her down on the bed in what felt like the gentlest touch she'd ever felt, despite the heated conflict of the moment.

Laura's back arched off the bed the moment Carmilla kissed her where she needed her the most. But  despite Laura's hips bucking up and her constant whimpering, Carmilla made sure to take her time in pleasuring her, her tongue drawing out in slow movements that seemed to be a slow-burning revenge scheme. "Any louder and the other guests will think a bastard child is being born," Carmilla hushed Laura with a snide remark, moving so she was hovering above her and tracing lazy circles between her hips.

Laura growled, flipping them over even though her thighs were shaking. She straddled Carmilla's waist and rocked her own hips roughly, earning a surprised mōan. "Kitty cat's grown some claws, has she?" The brunette quipped with a smirk and a laugh, prompting Laura to dig her nails deeper into Carmilla's hips, grinding her own down harder than before.

"Claws that won't be cut again," Laura added in an angry whisper, her nails dragging red lines down Carmilla's chest.

-

Nobody noticed that Laura returned to the palace in the dead of night, just after the witching hour had passed. Nobody noticed that she slept through breakfast, and nobody noticed the way the light in her eyes had died just a bit, replaced by a steely determination that looked a lot like hell.

-

_"Goodnight, darling," Carmilla had whispered, her voice hoarse and scratchy as Laura redressed and gathered her things to leave. "The war will wage at sunrise."_

-

Chaos seemed to be a tradition to the Karnstein monarchs.

Each and every one of them seemed to reek of it, from the first queen to kill her king and proceed to dominate the entirety of the North right down to the present heir to the throne: Carmilla, who, with her catlike eyes and graceful movements, had managed to infiltrate the South right where it hurt the most. She'd torn a rift between the King of the South and his own daughter; created a glass ceiling in their relationship that would prove vital, since the battles would begin to take place. And all she had to do was be a good fùck.

Maybe it was true that a woman's greatest strength lay between her legs.

-

"A telegram for you, Your Grace."

Laura snapped out of her thoughts and her embroidery with a jerk, pricking her finger in the process. She smiled weakly at the servant who had delivered it, nodding in thanks before opening the thick, creamy paper in a rush. It was royal paper, which meant no news from the battlefield.

Unless...

_Laura, my dearest daughter,_

No.

_You are my only daughter, and my sun. I have cared for you since the passing of your mother, and for all your life. I have loved you with all the lavishes of my heart and of my kingdom._

No!

_This is only going to end in blood and fire. The Queen's armies are merciless, and cannot possibly be human. The amount of bloodshed and gore... You must never leave the castle grounds, and you must always have one of the Kingsguard at your side. By God's grace, we will win the war, but not this battle. I am sorry to have failed you, Laura. I am so, sorry._  
_Your father._

Laura wasn't sure how long she cried, or how many glasses she'd broken, or how many walls she'd scratched and punched at until the bloodstains couldn't be scrubbed off. But one thing she was sure of. Though the king had been checkmated, the game hadn't ended yet.

Not until the queen was gone, too.

-

"What could I possibly do for you, darling?" Carmilla's tone was mocking and haughty. She was sprawled across dark velvety cushions and thick fur blankets in a palanquin laid on the grass.

"You will call me 'Your Highness'. And I wish to speak with the Queen." Laura's voice was clipped, dry, and emotionless as she snapped, her hands crossing over her chest.

"And for that, you've come out all the way here. Why." It wasn't a question as much as it was a sarcastic, rhetorical statement. Carmilla seemed to be sizing Laura up, from her braided hair that once flew free to the armoured dress she wore. She realised that the façade stage of their game was over, and it was business from then on. "She's in the tent. Step over the blood, darling," Carmilla laughed, signalling to her servants for another drink.

Laura made sure to step right in the puddle of blood a few paces from the tent flying red and black banners and the North's sigil. She didn't know which army it belonged to, and she didn't care. Lives of countless men from both kingdoms were being lost every day, and the North wasn't showing any signs of backing down. The King was dead, what more could they want?

The Queen knew she was in the tent before Laura had made the slightest of sounds. It was strange, she thought, how there were no guards positioned outside the tent, even though it didn't have the protection of even the simplest disguise.

"The commander of your army sent you to bargain, did he?"

"Terms of a ceasefire, actually." Laura couldn't help but shiver. Since she had entered the Queen's presence, it seemed at least five degrees colder. "And I came on my own accord."

The Queen laughed, turning around from the corner she was stood at, engrossed in an ancient-looking book of some kind. She looked up, and Laura realised the meaning of fear. It wasn't the tip of a sword, or the flash of a knife. It was crimson lips and jewelled necklaces; it was death in the prettiest form.

"You're braver than your father." The tall, fair lady observed with the hint of a smile.

"And how is that related to our discussion of a ceasefire, Your Grace?" Laura interrupted before she could continue, earning a wicked curl of the Queen's lips. She knew she had hit a nerve, and was obviously relishing in the victory.

"Is it what he would have wanted?"

"What he wanted was for you to retreat back to your frozen lands and leave the south alone."

The Queen waved an elaborately decorated finger. "Trick question. In the game of war and lands, there is no room for the wants of the heart."

"But there is room for destruction and killing," Laura snorted, "Of course."

Spreading her hands out in front of her as a minor agreement, the Queen's smile faltered just for a split-second. Laura wondered if she was seeing things. "Do you love her?"

Laura's silence communicated her confusion.

"Mircalla. Do you love her?"

Her answer being a beat late answered the question, but Laura denied it nevertheless.

"Shame," the Queen sighed as if it were something that pained her deeply. "She, unfortunately, has caught feelings for you." When Laura didn't reply, she continued. "I warned her against it, told her it would be foolish in the face of an all-out war, but she wouldn't listen. She's always been headstrong, that one. Especially when it comes to love and all that." She spat the last part out like it was a foul taste in her mouth.

Once, Laura thought she would have cared. But that was a world ago, when her father was alive and planning feasts and hunting trips, not laying under the dirt while his subjects were raped and killed daily by the beautifully deadly royals of the north. Once, maybe it would have struck a nerve.

But not now. The North had shed blood, and so blood they would receive. But not mine, thought Laura, Only their own.

"Mircalla is a name that is dead to me. Do you have any more questions, Your Grace, or can we get to the part that matters?"

The Queen flicked her wrist. "Go on."

"You are to leave by dawn," Laura started, standing straighter and smoothing out her skirt, "The fighting has been going on for too long, and if it continues, I promise you, you will not win. I'll see to that myself."

Laughing in amusement, the foreign royal made no move to stand nor shift in her seat. The only  
movement that betrayed her was a twitch of her lips. Laura would've been lying if she said it didn't remind her of the nights spent with Carmilla.

Or rather, Mircalla.

"And should I choose to humour you, darling, what will be your gift in return? It's never polite to expect a white flag without some form of compensation." The Queen paused, her eyes glinting with malice, "And I'm certain your father taught you better."

Laura grit her teeth. "Your reward will be your lives."

At that, the Queen looked up and locked eyes with Laura, who was fighting to stand still and keep from fidgeting with rage and anxiousness. They held their gazes for as long as they could, trapped in a staring competition. Whoever lost first, lost the game. Neither of them had to speak it to know it.

Her head had always been filled with stories of princes and romantic escapades. Yet, never in a million years had she imagined herself entangled in a twisted fantasy with the daughter of the north. And she'd certainly never given a second of thought to the image of herself bargaining with the murderer of her father.

It was eventually the Queen who looked away first. She heaved a great sigh once more, but this time Laura couldn't help but feel that it was more of a sigh of acceptance. She was agreeing, if not giving in to the sense of higher logic. Laura was beaming on the inside. If her father could hear her...

"I suppose there is some sort of sense to your words, darling, but I can't simply pack up." She laughed, standing and walking towards Laura until they were a mere head away from one another. The close proximity intimidated Laura, but she made great effort to steer clear of anything that would show it. The queen didn't seem to notice, anyhow.

"Yes, you can," Laura argued, "You can absolutely pack up your crew and armies and leave my homeland, my kingdom, alone!" She was yelling childishly now, she knew. But she deserved it, and her father deserved it. There was much mourning to do, and it would start there and then. The Queen would leave, and Laura would cry for her lost father and her lost love.

After a few more moments of terrifying silence, Laura cleared her throat. The Queen flinched.

"Daybreak, you say?" She asked softly, her voice sounding alarmingly akin to Mircalla's. "Daybreak it is."

-

True to the Queen's word, the cold-blooded murder ended that morning, and as the sun rose from behind the misty hills, the armies of the North retreated to their kingdom of miserable ice.

Laura resisted the urge to visit Mircalla one last time, knowing it would end in unholy sounds and more tears than she was capable of crying.

Instead, she watched from the balcony of her room and cried her throat out in heart-wrenching screams.

-

The kingdom was returned to its former glory, but not without much grievance and heartache. More than half the men had been slaughtered, and the women and children left sick and in pain.

But time has always had a track record of proving itself true, and prove itself true it did. Over the course of a terribly long year, there was healing and rebuilding and growing until the glory of the kingdom was restored. 

Laura had taken over the responsibilities of the crown and throne, learning the ways of court quickly with the help of her father's trusted advisors. One in particular standing out;  Lady Lawrence, a woman born into a family of knights sworn to the South. She spent the most time with the newly crowned Queen Laura, in walks around the palace gardens or visits to the local villages, all in the name of protection.

But they both knew that there was more to it than that, especially in the touches that held for longer than necessary, and the kisses-on-cheeks that weren't always called for.

However, as much as Laura cared for and trusted Lawrence, she couldn't bring herself to think of loving someone again. At least, not yet. Not when her heart still yearned for something that would poison it.

So she kept to herself for the most part, dealing only with urgent matters and leaving the rest to the members of the High Council. Laura spent her days studying, reading, and, to her own surprise, writing. Her thoughts, the leakages of her heart and soul, they were all poured out onto scraps of paper and manuscripts that would never be read by eyes other than her own.

She still grieved for her father, lost too soon. She grieved for the Carmilla she thought she knew, and though she knew it was immature and of ill-manner, she grieved for herself.

-

"Where are you taking me, Danny?" Laura's laugh echoed through the dimly lit tunnels that the Lady Lawrence was leading her through under the light of a torch.

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it, Your Grace?"

Laura was quick to roll her eyes, catching her breath before raising an eyebrow and attempting a compromise, "I could promise to act surprised?" She giggled, "And I've told you to call me Laura." She slowed down to smile at a black cat perched on one of the stone pillars they were passing by.

"Alright, Laura Your Grace," Danny teased right back, smiling fondly at Laura before stopping abruptly and unlocking a door Laura hadn't even known existed before that day. "After you."

Laura stepped in and had to remind herself to breathe. It was a magnificently decorated room, every crook and cranny filled with books of all size and type. As she walked in, her sandals clacked against the smooth, polished wooden floor. Although the room lacked much furnishing of any sort, there were soft-looking cushions and rugs that would certainly make a comfortable seating space.

"Danny, I... I don't know what to say!" She exclaimed in admiration with another awed gasp, taking in the wonderful sight and scent of the place. Honey and cinnamon. Warm, just like Lady Lawrence.

"Then you needn't say anything," the red-haired lady smiled, handing a tasseled keychain to Laura. "This place meant a lot to your father. He wanted you to have it," her smile dimmed for a moment.

There are times when we feel too little, and time when we wished we didn't feel so much. But there are those moments in between, moments so rare and pure that we hold on to forever, because nothing is too sad or too melancholy, but nothing shines so bright that it blinds.

Laura nodded, taking the key and slipping it into the pockets stitched into the folds of her skirt. She took one, two, three steps towards Danny and, smiling, pulled the back of her neck down for a kiss.

Their lips connected softly and gently, the taste sweet as time seemed to stop. It was nothing rash, nothing that needed to be kept secret. Laura felt light, like she could take flight anytime. They stayed that way for a while more, neither wanting the sacred moment to end. When their eyes finally met for the first time since the kiss, Danny's cheeks were the same rose coloured blush as her hair, and Laura was beaming from head to toe.

"Join me in my quarters tonight for supper?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Laura Your Grace."

-

The knock at the door surprised Laura.

Danny wasn't supposed to arrive until two hours before midnight, and there was still three-quarters of an hour to go. Laura tried to remember if she had set an appointment to meet with anyone, but she couldn't remember doing that at all. Truly, all she had been doing that evening was daydreaming of how the night would go, and trying on different dresses in a nervous flurry, even though she was telling herself over and over that there was nothing to be anxious about. But something just felt wrong, like maybe the kiss was a one-time 'thank you' gift, and she was reading the signs all wrong.

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head to calm down, Laura opened the door.

"Carmilla?"

-

If there was one thing Laura would never forget, it was that smile.

Before she knew her true nature, Laura had thought that it was a charming smile, even if a little crooked. She had thought of it as bashful, as playful, and as endearing. But now that she knew, oh, now that she had seen the bloodstains on those hands and the skin caught between those fingernails, that smile was the grin of a shark. It was sharper than a scythe, and more ruthless than hell reimagined.

"Leave." Laura's voice was stone cold, hard, and commanding. It was a voice that was new to her, and one that she did not often have reason to use. But here and now, standing in front of the- the demon she had once _loved_ , she knew it was fitting.

Carmilla only laughed, although it now sounded more like a throaty cackle. "But princess, I just arrived." She was leaning against the pillar, her lips a darker shade of red than usual, and her black gown blowing in the breeze like a hurricane.

"How did you escape the guards? What... What are you even doing here?"

"I couldn't stay away from you any longer," Carmilla's voice was soft, alluring, and almost hypnotic as she leaned in, her fingers brushing against Laura's cheek. It felt like rain after a drought, a warm hug, the last meal before an execution. Suffocation.

Laura pushed her hand away, keeping her grip on Carmilla's wrist. "If that were true, you wouldn't have waited a year." Even standing at her straightest and keeping the best poker face she could muster, Laura didn't feel intimidating at all. She still felt like the hunted, and not the hunter. The prey. "Leave."

"After I came all the way? Sweetheart, the air is so warm down here, I love it." Carmilla was playing a game. Laura could see it in the way she bit her lip a little too long, as if to keep from laughing. Carmilla was playing a game, and acting a role, and Laura was so stupid that Carmilla didn't even have to do it well.

"How did you know where to find me?" Laura continued to question. Perhaps if she could stall for long enough, Danny would get here in time and they could get Carmilla away. Laura didn't want her around, just the sight of her made her want to lie down.

Carmilla tried to step into the room, but Laura held her ground, shaking her head ever so slightly at the brunette. "You won't let me in? Not even for old times' sake?" She pouted somewhat mockingly, her hand tracing up and down the ends of Laura's bodice, her words obviously suggestive.

Laura flinched visibly, although she wasn't all too sure if she had done it purposefully. "Carmilla, I want you to _leave_. Please." She was pleading now. A queen should never have to plead, especially not to the princess of the kingdom that had bloodied her own.

"No, you don't." Carmilla's voice broke as she whispered the words, suddenly pulling away from Laura and shrinking back against the pillar in front of her door. "You still want me, just as how I want you. Say you do, Laura, I know you do." The pain in her voice was palpable, and so thick that it made Laura want to cry. She wanted to hold Carmilla, wanted Carmilla to hold her. Maybe they could still make it.

_Fool!_

Laura brought herself back out of her own illusions of safety. Carmilla is lying, she told herself, Carmilla doesn't want you. She wants your kingdom as her own, she said so herself. She's playing a ruse, a new tactic, since seduction didn't work. Mess with Laura's heart, and she'll melt.

No, Laura thought with a grimace, You may be from the icy tundras, but I have learned how to remain frozen. "I will not ask again. Leave, and don't come back." Laura's lips barely moved as she spoke. Her gaze was unfocused; the image of her room was blurring and sharpening all at once.

"Laura, please don't do this. Don't make me do this." Carmilla was begging, too. Begging to the princess she once had an affair with. But Laura had become the queen, and she was the queen that had declared Carmilla dead to herself. Begging would do nothing now.

"Leave," she repeated, expecting more of a fight.

But not a kiss.

Carmilla was too fast, one hand gripping Laura's waist gently yet firmly, and the other cupping her face as she kissed her deeply. Laura didn't have time to think, didn't have time to react, before she was being pressed against the wall.

It felt like she was being consumed; like she had been thrown into a furnace and was burning in slow-motion. She wanted to push Carmilla away, but at the same time... She didn't.

Maybe it was silly, childish thinking, but Laura felt like it was some form of closure. The last time they had been intimate in this way, it had ended with the promise of a war. Maybe it was good that they had one last kiss to seal things, and to fully end what they could call their relationship. She pulled away slowly, not daring to look Carmilla in the eye.

"See, princess? Wasn't so bad, was it?" Carmilla's tone was more mocking than playful, and then she was kissing Laura again, with the same intoxicating feeling as before. But this time, it didn't end quite the same.

Laura broke away the moment the pain began. It was spreading through her chest like a wildfire, clogging her lungs and beside her heart and all over her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror as she gasped for breath, the only feeling other than pain being shock.

Carmilla only smiled.

-

"You know, you've always been naïve. Painfully so."

All Laura could do was whimper, her fingers twitching every now and then as Carmilla sat on the edge of her bed. She had conveniently carried her into the room and shut the door to avoid an unsavoury encounter with anyone. ("After all, darling, the poison will take a while to kick in.")

"In fact, I didn't think mother's plan would work," Carmilla laughed, shaking her head and tilting her head to the side as she watched Laura writhe with what little energy she had left, "Not until you came looking for me at every event, every ball, every ride through the countryside. You were so desperate, Laura, it was incredible. Did daddy never tell you stories of how kings and queens conquered?" She paused, as if telling a story to an infant. Taking her time to lean in close beside Laura's ear, she whispered, "Deception." And then she was laughing again, an almost giddy sort of laugh.

Laura groaned, trying to curl up into herself, but failing. Her stomach was on fire, and so were her lungs. Every other part of her just felt cold and paralysed. Every breath was torture, and yet it seemed to be that she wasn't yet allowed to die.

"You always were a good fuck, though, darling, I'll give you that. And you truly made me feel like a queen. Even though, funnily, it seems that you are the queen here." Carmilla smirked, plucking the crown from Laura's hair like a child plucking an apple from its tree. "Well, you were."

When Carmilla threw the crown onto the floor, the sound of metal resonated through Laura's head like the final swing of an axe.

"You loved too much, sweetheart, and that was your downfall."

No, Laura was laughing painfully inside her own head, coughing up blood each time but continuing to smile, That is one thing that you are wrong about, Carmilla. I will never regret the fact that I loved.

There was a knock on the door.

"You should know," Carmilla whispered, her voice sounding mellow and almost sad, "That if there was another way for this to end, I'd gladly choose it." She kissed Laura's forehead before picking up the crown, and disappearing from Laura's blurred line of vision. She didn't have the energy to turn and see what was happening, but she could still hear, and hear she did.

The door opened, and Danny was screaming. And the world was black.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i really did just kill the main character. you're welcome, i love u too.


End file.
